


A small story about gods and heroes

by BreitzbachBea



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate universe - Mafia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Safer Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-12
Updated: 2015-06-12
Packaged: 2018-04-04 03:31:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4124119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreitzbachBea/pseuds/BreitzbachBea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smutty oneshot of my OCs.</p><p>Francesco Belfari and Dolcetto Acerbi are an odd pairing at first glance, but if you dig deeper ... then you'll see that they still have quite their weird differences. Even in bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A small story about gods and heroes

He was such a lucky fellow, he truly was.  
  
At least Francesco considered himself one while his hands grabbed the hem of Dolcetto's sweatshirt and slowly slid it upwards, not to mention that he had his lips on the other's and his tongue in the mouth of the small Venetian.  
  
Nothing could ruin this now, the moment was perfect. Dolcetto had agreed to have Sex with him tonight [one always had to ask beforehand because Dolcetto first didn't had anything needed for sex like lube or condoms at his place and was also too much of a stubborn little idiot let Francesco leave some there or to buy it on his own, and second, intimacy like that was just a sensitive topic for the younger Italian] and even this asshole cat couldn't ruin it since Francesco had trapped Machiavelli in the bathroom.  
  
They had to break the kiss so Dolcetto could get rid of his sweater but the second Franci had thrown it on the couch table, their lips joined again and the Neapolitan started to work on the buttons of his own shirt, pleasantly surprised when Dolco's fingers started to run through his slicked back hair, causing the dark brown curls to unravel. But he was even more surprised when the other sighed into the kiss and put both of his hand on Francesco's chest, just rubbing it with his palms while he put his shirt on the back rest of the couch.  
  
"Do you want to go to bed?" He whispered and the Venetian stopped pouting because the kiss was over and leant back a bit. His skin was a fairer than Franci's olive tanned body, speaking of body, Dolcetto was quite small, which one should never say out loud to him though unless you wanted to get knocked out. His frame was slender. The hazel eyes were half lidded, brows furrowed in annoyance as usual and he swept one of his jawlength, brown curls out of his face. Francesco loved this untameable hair, especially when they were spooning and he could just bury his face in it.  
  
"Yes. I think we should go to bed" was his answer and Francesco must have looked like a puppy ready to play, judging by his lover's annoyed expression. The Venetian just rolled his eyes and groaned before he got his feet on the ground, since he had been kneeling on the couch, and stood up. The Neapolitan would really have liked to pick him up and carry him princess style to the bed room, throwing him on the bed and--  
  
But that would only remind Dolcetto of how much stronger (and taller, these 5 centimeter of difference) Franci was and THAT would lead to him sleeping on the couch, all alone, no Dolco next to him.  
So instead he just got up and followed him into corridor, turning off the lights in the living room, and then to the door of the bedroom.  
  
Moonlight fell through the big window left to them, right onto the bed, only blocked by a few twigs of the tree outside the window.  
  
Francesco suddenly had to think that it was a very romantic picture, wondering if it had happened before. He had took a walk to the Palatine this morning, since he still loved to visit Rome's ancient buildings and places as long as he didn't had to wait years like every tourist [or break in but these times were over. Mostly.] to get there.  
  
But if he had uttered "Isn't the thought of somebody like us, two people in high position, loving each other in the exact same scenery, fascinating?", Dolcetto would have slapped him. The younger man didn't really appreciate the other's romantic streak and poetic moods or simply didn't know how to deal with it.  
  
Other things went through his head anyways when he saw the Venetian sitting on the edge of the bed, legs spread and leant back, resting on his elbows.  
  
Francesco whistled before closing the door behind him and walking over to him, standing right in front of Dolcetto, looking down with crossed arms and licking his lips:  
  
"You don't even know how you look, do you? You have no idea how much your posture screams 'Take me', no."  
  
He leant down, his face only a few centimeters away from Dolco's, a growl slipping from his lips: "You are so oblivious to what you're doing to me."  
  
He kissed the other before any mean comment could leave his mouth, grabbing the small hips and lifting him up while straighten his back, not breaking the kiss until he threw him back on the bed, Dolcetto now lying entirely on it and for a second Francesco regretted that move.  
  
"B-Bastard" the other spat out and Franci sighed relieved. The Venetian never stuttered his curses and insults unless he was confused by somebody. Or aroused by his lover.  
  
The Neapolitan knelt onto the bed and crawled over to him, cupping Dolcetto's face in his hands, these lovely curls springing up between his fingers and pressed another fierce kiss onto the other's mouth, tongue sliding in again. He brought one of his knees between Dolco's legs, gently pressing against his crotch to see if he had a hard-on already (Franci's body was pumping blood down to his junk the second he had seen Dolcetto on the bed) and felt a bulge in those tight jeans indeed, the yelp from his lover being a further confirmation, too.  
  
He chuckled quietly and kissed the rather pale neck: "We should get on with it."  
  
He kept kissing his neck down to his collarbone: "Unless his majesty wants to have an ample foreplay tonight."  
  
His tongue now traced downwards to one of the already perked up nipples, starting to suck on it. Dolcetto let out a high pitched, throaty noise which probably was a supressed moan and Francesco simply had to laugh, sitting up and holding his arms up to protect his face when the Venetian started throwing punches and insults.  
  
"S-Sorry! I just ... wow" he cackled.  
  
"Making fun of me l-like that! Bastard! Idiot! Pig! Tr-Traitor!"  
  
"That was just too ... erotic" Franci burst into weird laughter again.  
  
If Dolco's legs had been more muscular than the Neapolitan's body, he would have kicked him of the bed. Now his foot hitting Francesco's rock hard abs was only causing the other one to cough but he didn't laugh anymore.  
  
"I think" he managed to get out between two coughing fits "we should leave the foreplay alone."  
  
He kissed the smaller one, an open mouthed but tame kiss, one hand on his neck, the other unbuttoning his trousers.  
  
"Kneel or lie down and lift your hips up" he whispered, risking another complaint about how Dolcetto Acerbi didn't took any orders from him, but luckily he just sat back down and got rid of the cloth himself, throwing the jeans of the bed, lying on his back again .  
  
Yeah, there was clearly a bulge in the red pants but when he reached out to get rid of them, too, he had Dolco's foot in his face, the other with his arms crossed and a bored expression.  
  
"You too, before you touch anything important" he stated, a small and mean grin creeping on his face, a pissed off one also appearing on Franci's:  
  
"Acting like we're in control, my perverted Darling?"  
  
Dolcetto pressed his heel against Francesco's chin:  
  
"Acting?"  
  
"I could sweep you off this bed with no effort if I wanted to, but that would end in a brawl and not sex, and as much as I love you, you almost broke my nose during the last fight."  
  
Dolcetto only smiled victorious when the other started to unbutton his trousers, but stopped and sighed:  
  
"Dolco would ... would you be so kind and get your foot out of my face?"  
  
The other only pressed it harder against Franci, looking to the side with the usual slightly annoyed, resting bitchface.  
  
Of course, he could have just grabbed his leg and shoved it away, he could have held down both of the Venetian's legs with a single arm, but fighting back would kill the mood and what for? He loved Dolco's quirks after all (as long as he didn't take it overboard).  
  
The Neapolitan sat back and got his legs out from under his ass, stripping off both, trousers and pants, at once, throwing them behind him on the floor.  
  
"Now, would you be so kind to get your foot of my pretty face so I can screw you?" He asked, but Dolcetto only tilted his head to the side to inspect him properly.  
  
"Or do you want me to just jerk off to the sight of your beautiful body?" Franci added, palming his erection since he was so hard it was almost painful.  
  
Now the other looked away and lowered his leg, Francesco rubbing his face with a relieved sigh and smirked when he saw Dolcetto's spread legs in front of him, arms still crossed - and face flushed red.  
  
Instead of wasting time with more words, he just crawled between the others legs and removed his pants, his right index finger already tracing his length from the top to the bottom while the other hand was still busy to get the red cloth from his lover's leg.  
  
And this time, Dolcetto moaned, quietly but openly.  
  
If this wasn't going straight to Francesco's cock.  
  
Hastily he threw the pants of the bed and pressed himself against Dolco, hips gently rocking against his, erection rubbing against the other's and his lips on the Venetians, tongue so deep inside his mouth.  
  
They lost themselves in this erotic dance, Dolcetto exploring the Neapolitans body with his fingertips, trying to feel every centimeter of the buff body, following every single muscle, while Francesco pressed kisses to every single square centimeter of HIS body, and playing with the curls, his fingers running through his hair over and over again and of course kissing these soft, soft lips.  
  
Yet it was Franci who stopped his motions due to one particular hard thrust upwards.  
  
"Do we really want to get off without having any sex?" he mumbled and Dolcetto rolled his eyes:  
  
"I don't care Franci. So you either start working those wonderful hips again or get the lube."  
  
With a small "Of course your highness" he sat up and reached for the drawer where he had put it earlier that day, Dolcetto hitting his back with his foot for the comment.  
  
He got the bottle out as well as one of the condoms and closed it again, mumbling "That last kick wasn't necessary" while squirting lube onto the fingers of his right hand, then looking at the younger man, putting the bottle on the floor:  
  
"How do you want it done? Missionary, from behind, riding me?"  
  
"I don't give a damn by now Franci, just get me off."  
  
"Doggy Style it is" the Neapolitan grinned and Dolcetto was on his knees, chest and arms pressed to the mattress and ass up in the air within two or three seconds.  
  
"Wow. I'd enjoy the view if you wouldn't be so impatient" it came from the other and Dolcetto rolled his eyes once more, wanting to snap at him when he felt one of Francesco's thick fingers running down his cleft and he shuddered, especially when it rubbed over his hole.  
  
"But time for a little teasing has to be" the Neapolitan purred and it was the first time the Venetian just kept quiet and grabbed the sheets because of what was to come.  
  
And he bit down on his lip, desperately trying not to make another embarrassing noise when one finger was pushed inside, gently rubbing and wiggling its way deeper.  
  
Oh god, it was so damn tight, he only had one FINGER in him and could barely bear it already.  
  
"Okay?" He hissed and Dolco only nodded in response so he put in another one, coaxing a moan out of him and a whine when he started to scissor his fingers, trying to make room for a third one and then his cock.  
  
How long had it been since their last time? Three weeks? He saw the other almost every day but didn't have sex for three weeks?  
  
Suddenly Francesco couldn't wait to thrust into him, making the other scream and beg for more.  
  
"FUCK!"  
  
While speaking of screaming, apparently Franci had hit the other's sweet spot, the Neapolitan laughing quietly while adding a third, looking for that special cluster of nerves.  
  
"Y-You're a bast-bas- oh goddammit" he had to end his insult when the other found it.  
  
"Aren't you cute when you think you're still in control" Francesco hummed, drawing his fingers almost completely out only to slam them back in again, repeating it a few times to hear these sweet sounds escaping the Venetian's mouth.  
  
The only problem about these sounds and the tightness around his fingers were that it also turned him on, so he pulled out, getting the condom while Dolcetto tried to catch his breath.  
  
Francesco ripped it open and put it on, having to bite his lower lip. His own hand was of course nothing against Dolcetto's body but any touch was a good touch now.  
  
He placed himself at his entrance, tip of his cock slightly pressing against it, one had grabbing the smaller one's hips:  
  
"Can I?"  
  
"Fuck."  
  
"Yes that was the plan. So you said yes?"  
  
"Just get on with it!" Dolcetto snapped at him and Francesco laughed, entering him with a quick thrust that made the other inhale sharply and leant onto his back, grabbing his member while pressing kisses onto his back.  
  
"Shhht, it's alright" he whispered while stroking his to ease the pain, Dolco only panting beneath him. And it wasn't that Franci wouldn't enjoy the warmth around his own, but he knew he would enjoy it much more if he could move.  
  
"I'm ... fine" Dolcetto murmured as if he read the other's mind. "Move you idiot."  
  
"Your wish is my command" he replied, straightening himself and letting go of the Venetian's shaft, putting both hands on his hips before he started to pull out and thrust back in again, slow at first before setting a steady, fast rythym.  
  
Moans from both Italians filled the room and while only a small "oh god" slipped from Franci's lips three or four times, Dolco's curses varied a lot.  
  
"Fuck! Oh ... mhm! H-Harder! Oh goddammit, you fucking basta-AH!" he cried out and grabbed the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white.  
  
"F-Francesco" he suddenly moaned and the other grinned: "You got time for my full name? That's -oh god, you're so TIGHT - rare."  
  
And then he stopped, much to the dismay of the younger one, who pushed himself on his hands, looking over his shoulder - well, planned to look over his shoulder since those damn curls were in the way!  
  
With a laugh, the Neapolitan brushed them aside, leaning with one forearm on Dolco's lower back.  
  
"Why did you stop?!"  
  
"Because I wondered."  
  
"About what you jerk?! How fast I'd throw you out of my flat if you act like an asshole?!"  
  
"About what other kind of rare words could come out of your mouth. A 'Please' for example."  
  
"Oh, get out of my ass Franci-" he started and let his chest sink to the bed, trying to slap Francesco with one hand when the other grabbed his hips, one hard and quick thrust made the other moan and claw at the covers again.  
  
"You don't want me to get out of your ass" he gave back, forearm and now the other elbow on his back, resting his chin on his hand, unimpressed expression on his face. "You just don't want to say such a simple and small word like 'Please'."  
  
"I don't BEG Franci, you should know that."  
  
"And you should know by now that I like to push your boundaries."  
  
"You like to be an idiot by doing things that annoy me."  
  
"Do you really want the whole world to tiptoe around you, treating you like something fragile?" he whispered in a low voice, putting his front to the other's back, drawing a small "Ah" from the Venetian since it also caused Francesco to move inside.  
  
"A god isn't fragile, a god doesn't needs to be treated like a glass vase" he growled into Dolcetto's ear that it made him shudder. That wasn't his usual idiot Franci, that was the Signore Belfari one should not mess with. The professional one, the mafia one, the dangerous one. Or in this case - The serious one.  
  
"And that's what you want to be seen like, don't you? A god. And I am an adventurer," he pressed a kiss to Dolco's neck, his stubbly beard scratching against the skin and the Venetian made a face, "a hero. I am not afraid of facing a god."  
  
"And apparently messing with one" Dolcetto gave back bored. "A god doesn't BEG a human to do something, Franci."  
  
"Gods need humans. They need human or half human heroes to fulfil certain duties. Such as slaying beasts, such as bringing them pleasure in our case.  
  
Say please and I'll proceed with taking you so hard you'll have trouble sitting tomorrow."  
  
Dolcetto wouldn't beg, no matter what. He never begged, nobody could make him beg even if the other was so close to him and spoiling him by kissing and sucking all the right places, one hand gently brushing over his chest, rolling his nipples between his fingers, and still was buried so deep inside with his dick, stretching him, filling him if he--  
  
"Please" he hissed and the Neapolitan chuckled: "There you go. Was that so difficult?"  
  
He pressed a kiss to Dolcetto’s temple: "Don't answer, I know it was, you stubborn god."  
  
He lifted himself up, one of his hands on the other's hip, the other going to Dolcetto's cock, stroking it before Francesco started to move.  
  
And the Venetian screamed and cursed and moaned, feeling like it was even better than before, like he only needed a few more thrusts -oh god Franci just knew the right spot to send him to heaven again and again- and strokes to come.  
  
Francesco noticed that the other moved in time with him now, hips rocking with his and he knew he wouldn't last long, hoping it was still longer than Dolcetto. If not, the situation would get awkward.  
  
"Eh, Dolco?" He panted and the other grid his teeth to cope with pain/pleasure of his prostate being hit: "What. Is. It." he hissed.  
  
"Moan my name when you come, mhm? That'd be so nice."  
  
Ah yeah, the lovey-dovey Neapolitan was back. The silly one.  
  
"As if you-" he snarled but came with a screamed "Idiot!", feeling his own cum on his stomach and the other's hand disappearing from his member.  
  
"Close, close, I'll accept that" Francesco grinned and started to thrust harder, more hitched and the Venetian yelped beneath him, both moaning when he came as well, collapsing onto the other's back.  
  
"That was ... nice" he breathed choppily and Dolcetto only gave back a "Hmpf... yes."  
  
"I should pull out."  
  
"Yeah. And get something to clean us. And don't you-"  
  
"I know, I know, it is common sense that I don't touch the door knobs with the hand I got you off. Leaving someone's own cum in their house are no good manners."  
  
Adding "And I was always a polite boy" he pulled out, Dolcetto turning around and lying on his back, looking on his stomach.  
  
"That's so gross" he mumbled to himself when the other already got up, throwing the used condom in the bin beside the drawer.  
  
"I suppose tissues are not enough for his majesty?"  
  
"I don't have any here in first place you jerk."  
  
"Jesus christ you don't have anything" the other murmured, opening the door so the pillow that was supposed to hit him flew into the corridor.  
  
"I am not bringing that back" he called when he was already out of the room and on his way to the bathroom.  
  
Now this was the only thing that still could ruin his night - letting the cat out.  
  
He looked upwards, praying that Machiavelli wouldn't attack him the second he opened the door before he pushed the door handle down and peeked inside, turning the lights on.  
  
The brown-white Angora tomcat was sleeping in the basin, yet moved his head to look where the noise had come from.  
  
And before Francesco could say "Hey Machiavelli, would you please move" the cat had gotten up, jumped out of the basin and squeezed himself through the gap between the door frame and Francesco's leg.  
  
"Don't you dare to lay on the bed, that's my place tonight, you fuckboy" he buzzed displeased more to himself and washed his hands as well as wetting a washrag to clean up Dolcetto.  
  
On his way back he heard noises from the kitchen which meant the cat wasn't in the bedroom yet and by closing the door once he was back he made sure that he wouldn't get inside any soon, too.  
  
"You forgot the pillow asshat."  
  
Dolcetto sat cross-legged now and Franci frowned:  
  
"I said I wouldn't get it."  
  
"I can't get up you fucker."  
  
Now he chuckled: "Oh I see" before taking the few steps to the bed, leaning down for a kiss during which the Venetian ripped the rag out of his hand.  
  
"I'll get it then" the Neapolitan whispered before going back and opening the door again, picking up the pillow and throwing it on the bed while Dolco cleaned himself before putting the rag on the drawer.  
  
And now came the part of the night Francesco hated.  
  
They both got under the covers, exchanging one last good night kiss, the older one whispering "Ti amo Dolco" while the other only rolled his eyes and just pecked him on the cheek instead, turning around to curl up, stealing most of the blanket this way.  
  
It was so profound yet worried him so much. The simple fact that Dolcetto never cuddled after sex.  
  
He wasn't even allowed to hug him or shuffle closer, the Venetian would always notice it and shove him away. Francesco had given up trying by now and just wondered each time.  
  
Did Dolcetto only sleep with him because he thought he wanted him to? Did he not like it? Did he think of it as so dirty and perverted that he had to spent time with self-loathing afterwards? He hoped none of these were true because all of them were horrible scenarios. He wanted that Dolcetto felt good and had sex with him because he wanted so and that he thought of it as something intimate and romantic!   
  
Francesco put his right arm over his eyes and groaned quietly.  
  
Once thoughts like this visited him he only had bad things in his head, asking himself for the thousandth time if he was only together with Dolcetto because Gabriella was taken and never wanted him as something else than a colleague and friend in first place. So now he was 'in love' with her little brother.  
  
He knew it wasn't true, Dolcetto wasn't his sister, the Acerbis were very different and yet it was stuck in his head that he was lying to the small Venetian beside him.  
  
Night thoughts he had when he was all alone in his bed were never romantic and poetic; only nasty and devastating.


End file.
